


The Bride

by cukibola



Category: Arthurian Mythology, Arthurian Mythology & Related Fandoms, Romans | Arthurian Romances - Chrétien de Troyes
Genre: Comedy, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:27:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23560804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cukibola/pseuds/cukibola
Summary: The mix of Arthurian legends and Thrymskvida you didn't know you needed
Relationships: Lisanor/Carys
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	The Bride

The letter was clear on its content and meaning: Melwas, lord of Somerset, son of Bademagus, was asking to have Guinevere, High Queen of the Britons, handed over in marriage to him, or at least to have a totally inoffensive meeting with her in the woods at night, completely alone and without any ways to defend herself. It didn’t take a genius to understand he would kidnap the queen anyways, but apparently Sir Gawain had to explain the situation to a couple of Table-mates. Now, her mother was apparently trying to convince her that being kidnapped by a potential lover wasn’t that bad, even she did so; Arthur’s father-in-law was now poking and annoying him into making sure his—Gwythyr—wife didn’t allow herself to be kidnapped again, obviously ignoring the great sadness that had arrived to Guinevere’s heart. It was such a great sadness, she had thrown the letter to the fire and broken her most beautiful necklace. 

“How does he even dare to suggest such a thing?!” roared the queen, making the castle and the island tremble to its very own foundations. Arthur went on to calm his clearly very affected wife, with Gwythyr following him, and, while trying to ignore him, thus spake the king:

“Obviously, we aren’t going to do that. Such an offense to your person will be punished! The question now is how to do so, as I doubt Melwas would simply leave his great fortress to be captured like that…”

Sir Gawain arose from his seat. An idea was sparkling on his eyes so brightly a couple of authors thought it was a reflection of godlike light that projected the divine inspiration God had sent to this paladin of Christianity and chivalric values. Another bunch of authors considered, however, that it was actually a clear mirror of the hellish flames from Satan’s kingdom as Lucifer himself had whispered on this wrathful fiend and traitor. It was more likely that Sir Gawain had simply had a good idea: “Does Melwas even know what Guinevere looks like?”

“We doubt so,” a couple of people wondered then why the interest, but they were most largely ignored.

“Then we can simply send a lure for him, whereas a group of knights wait behind the bushes and up in the trees; once Melwas even comes near, we will ambush and end him.”

Now, this idea brought a great debate among knights and authors alike: some said that Sir Gawain was intending to avoid any real danger to his queen and aunt, as a good example of knighthood should do, whereas others claimed such a trick showed his low morals and lack of honor. Despite it being an actual good idea that the king much appreciated, soon the side complaining on how unmanly and traitorous and cruel and lecherous—for some reason—the occurrence had been began to grow, or at least to scream louder. Soon weaponry, people, entire kegs of beer and pieces of furniture began flying from one point to the other, even from the lesser known Table of the Women. There was a member of the Round Table and the court that not only disliked such a chaos, having calculated the cost of such destruction, but was also capable of roar like thunder itself:

“CAN YOU JUST SHUT UP FOR ONCE, YOU HALF-WITS?! WHAT ELSE ARE YOU GOING TO DO, YOU BUNCH OF IDIOTS?! SEND ME?!” and so Sir Kay looked at them, all red in eyes, face and hair, clearly angry. Now if one side was to consider him a mythological hero in line with Hercules or Thórr, or if the other was to consider him le cousin inutil of Beelzebub, that doesn’t matter. No, what mattered was the way Sir Bedwyr ruminated another idea himself, and with a mysterious smile he said:

“Gawain, do you think that Kay can work as the lure?”

And both sides all of a sudden agreed. And the royal couple agreed. And even Gawain agreed. And Kay didn’t agree at all. Both sides agreed so greatly they quickly threw themselves at the not-very-happy seneschal, containing him on his seat while Sir Owain, who had the most experience with beasts, drew a shaky razor blade towards his position. Of such an attempt Kay got his beard intact and Owain several bites, a certain number of almost lost fingers and even more terrible insults that made him renounce for “I may have befriended a lion, romanced a dragon, commanded ravens, threatened wolves and contained my mother the best I can; but this is too much! I quit!” and effectively left. 

Dame Morvydd suggested the use of a bridal veil to cover his face, but only when Sir Mordred repeated her idea did the knights agreed. From a kind giantess they got a dress, and it was a nice dress made of the most exotic silk and decorated of scenes of great love, like that of Isolde and Tristan (which made the knight wonder how they knew about that), of Mars and Venus and of Alexander and Hephastion. From Guinevere they got the veil and the crown, both of the most expensive gold and jewels to find. From Isolde they got the best perfumes that took everyone back to the Garden of Eden and a wedding ring (“it’s not like if I wear it normally anyways”). From a merchant’s wife they got a couple of watermelons. And to complete the bride, Nimue offered her magic necklace that would make Kay irresistible to any man, even if he spoke. Such a picture would not leave their minds ever, although they didn’t exactly complain of the sight. 

“Well, you already had very long hair! So silky! And it smells so good! And of such a bright color! Don’t you think I’m a lucky man, my brother, or should I say, my wife?”

“Get fucked, Wart.”

*  
Forests are no places for good girls, even less so at night. How lucky then, that Morgan was a woman already. Now, she understood why they said so. It was a strange combination of that typically male desire of controlling anything a woman does and criticize her for doing so and even more for not doing so, and fear of actual dangers that may lurk in a dark isolated place. Most of the time those dangers were very human, but sometimes actual supernatural things happened. Like, for example, when she swore she was seeing some of the bothers that her brother called “knights” hiding wherever they could. Well, that was actually a rather common and human sight, especially considering they may be preparing some mission to show off how great and fantastic and fantabulous they were. Maybe they were stalking some horrifying eldritch beast, like a lost giraffe or a blood-thirsty rabbit. Maybe one had gotten way too deep into decapitation shenanigans and now they all wanted to participate. Maybe they were going to throw themselves in one knee near a girl that they were horny for. Either way, she was more than prepared to thwart their efforts and put her next plan in motion.

They had come from the east, and eastwards Morgan went. Now she was expecting another group carrying something of value, like a weapon or a defensive device. That would have been the logic thing to do, and while experience told her that exactly for that reason they wouldn’t do so, there was a little hope. Well, whatever she had expected, it clearly wasn’t that. She clearly hadn’t expected what very clearly was poor Kay dressed like a woman and riding on Guinevere’s pretty horse. That probably was one of the supernatural things in the woods. She didn’t move from the way, he actually stopped. She could feel his anger from her position, and probably he could feel her attempts at containing her laughs. She even heard grunts, and now was unable to contain it even more:

“The watermelons!” and she even bended over herself. 

“Why, are you jealous?” what a good wife he would be: cheeky, sassy and rude, clearly what any man wanted. 

“Some people are happy with what we’ve been given, thank you,” lucky her, she was just as much of a good wife as he was. 

“Well, I can’t see that you have received anything at all!” 

He tried to leave, not paying the greatest, most annoying, villain in Arthur’s reign ever any kind of special attention. Now, that was something Morgan wouldn’t allow; whether out of pride or out of a great desire to make fun at Kay dressed as a bride, it wasn’t clear. He shouldn’t complain at all, she had been as kind so as to offer him a spell to make his eyelashes as thick as Brocélandie’s forest! As she offered him a dress that would suit him better, and he told her to bugger off (“bugger off, sad attempt of a witch!” “Oh, bugger yourself off, my queen!”), she tried to guess what kind of weapon could be a seven-feet, bearded, burly fellow dressed as the prettiest of princesses. As far as she knew, drag was Lancelot’s specialty. 

The answer came between the bushes, before they reached the first spot. There, a little army of knights whose coat of arms they recognized as strange to the Round Table jumped and surrounded them, weapons high and ready. Morgan could have used some spell to make them disappear, but now she was actually even more curious. She wondered why Kay didn’t attack them, and saw he had no weapons with him; why not a spell then? Probably to not blow his cover. A man they recognized as Melwas of Somerset positioned himself in front of them, hands and arms open to show he had no weapons at all, how kind of him. He was smiling like an idiot upon seeing the big figure with the veil, and even began laughing, his eyes full of if not love or lust, attraction at the very least. He bowed in front of “Guinevere”, with no apparent trace of mockery, which only made Kay even angrier. 

“My beautiful Guinevere, I see you’ve come to your senses! And who is the lad with you?”

Morgan looked down on her clothes, apparently having forgotten how she had stolen a miller’s clothes as a disguise, heading to Camelot preparing her brand new joke. Unfortunately for her, now that joke would be little in comparison to the seneschal doing drag. Now, coming back to her original plan, she could have simply shapeshifted, but who knew what kind of businesses would have appeared in the way, businesses that should never be done with another shape! Well, it seemed, the miller’s clothes were loose enough to make her pass as a man. “Oh, I am but a poor miller!”

“You don’t look particularly strong…”

“That’s why I am poor. But our sweet High Queen has made me such good, promising me all that gold! Thank you my queen, I owe you my life!” And she proceeded to kiss the hand of the surprisingly quiet Kay like knights used to do when she was still queen. Looking up, she saw he still had a beard and smiled unconsciously.

“Who cares! Snatch him as well!”

“Snatch me! But I am only a poor miller who can’t provide for my family!”

“You should have thought so before trying to seduce my wife-to-be!”

And these knights threw themselves against them and in no time they both were completely tied up. Neither wanted to blow their cover, it seemed. The “miller” swore and swore he didn’t want to seduce the queen, and he needed to find Arthur; the “queen” said nothing but the temperature around her had abnormally risen to the point Melwas’ soldiers were actively avoiding facing the figure. In the end, Melwas had to blow some magic dust on their eyes that made them both fall asleep.  
*  
When they woke up they had been set up in front of a great table full of all kinds of food and drinks, but the greatest of them were a series of great barrels full of the best wine or beer, and in the middle of the table, a great boar, as big as an ox, shone with its golden roast like Excalibur itself. Even the apple set up for decorative purposes looked so delicious! Morgan’s belly grunted, and she then felt Melwas’ hands on her shoulders. 

“Now, I am such a good ruler I let you have this as your last image before executing you!” he placed his sword on her neck, and she prayed they wouldn’t notice the burn.

“Melwas!” Morgan had it very rough to not burst out laughing when she heard Kay’s attempt of imitating Guinevere; fear certainly helped, “Is this how you treat your guests?! And you call yourself “good”? Leave that poor man alone!”

“I am so sorry, my beloved!” whatever Kay was doing to have him hooked up, it definitely was powerful. Was it the hair? It was nice hair. 

“I’ve decided he’s now to be my main servant,” of course; now he had decided to take revenge on Melwas for threatening Guinevere and kidnapping him and on Morgan for having made fun of him and all other kinds of bothers she had set up before, “Servant, go fetch me the boar and a big horn of liquor!”

“Yes, my queen,” oh, if only she could blow up their cover… and she better find a way to pay her debt with him for basically saving her life. 

This opportunity was to be at hand really soon, actually. Morgan felt the looks of every attendant on her as she grabbed the pig. She recognized the old man with a crown as Bademagus, and the girl besides him was probably his daughter Carys. Alongside Carys there was another woman, and her coat of arms showed she was French, although she couldn’t recognize as Dame Lisanor of Quimper-Corentin until later. The rest included some of the kidnappers, the cook and some waiters. Neither of them understood why to serve the entire pig to only one person, and neither did she, to be fair. And then, it happened:

She had never seen somebody throw themselves against a boar like that; damn, she had never seen dogs and wolves throw themselves against a boar like that. And probably neither did any of them. Well, at least Kay seemed happy as he engulfed the animal, licking his fingers even before snatching and tearing apart one of the legs as if nothing. Morgan, unsure on how to react, went to get a great horn of liquor, but judged well to bring a barrel as well with the help of the waiters. When they arrived he had left barely anything of the enormous boar that not so long ago would have been living a happy life in the forest with its family and fellow boars… Any kind of contemplation was cut when Kay took the horn, drank it in one sip and then demanded the chicken. And another one. And those deliciously looking eggs. And another barrel of wine. And the duck. And that big goddam fish. And another barrel. And that thing he wasn’t sure what it was, but looked delicious. And that pile of fruit. And another barrel. And… 

“Miller!” called Melwas. There was something in him, call it the posture, his general aura, the fact he avoided looking at his wife-to-be… that showed that maybe Kay’s spell was fading, “what kind of woman is that?”

“Well…” she looked back at him, Kay had decided to avoid intermediaries and was drinking straight from the barrel, “Clearly a nervous one; because not only do women eat more when nervous, I’m pretty sure poor Guinevere must have starved herself before meeting you.”

Even though that wasn’t exactly the best excuse ever, Melwas fell on his knees in front of Kay, who was clearly annoyed for having an interruption on his chewing of candies. To the great proclamation of love from Melwas he didn’t react but by asking for an entire salmon. That same salmon he used as a weapon when the prince of Somerset placed his hand on his knee. 

“YOU WON’T TOUCH ME UNTIL AFTER THE WEDDING, UNDERSTOOD?!” 

“Well, at least take off your veil so we can rejoice in your great beauty!”

“NO FACE UNTIL WEDDING!” and he continued on the shacking of the table, not paying any attention to the angry and twisted feature on Melwas’ face…  
*  
“Guinevere” was sent to the same bedroom as lady Carys. Lady Carys didn’t exactly react badly in fear of a cruel retaliation, but neither did she react well to the idea of a giant guy in a dress sharing the same room as her. Partially, the reasons were obvious, but another problem was added, as she had expected Dame Lisanor to be in her room instead. But no, Lisanor had instead been placed in a mere guest’s room, the same in which the miller had been placed by insistence of “Guinevere”. She wasn’t yet her sister-in-law and she hated her already! 

She began thinking of a retaliation: maybe if “Guinevere” decided to run away before the wedding Melwas would grow angry and persecute her. That way Melwas would also earn himself the enmity of King Arthur as well, and thus be executed at last. Two less problems for Carys! Carefully she hid her sickle behind her back, just in case he decided to attack her, and carefully got his attention with a cough that could have passed for a sigh:

“My High Majesty, do you even know what are you marrying into?” her voice was so low it could have passed as a whisper. 

“Do you think I’m stupid?” whatever answer Carys had expected, it clearly wasn’t that. 

“I mean… I’ve heard of the good and kind Guinevere and of her great love to the noble and righteous Arthur… and it surprises me that now you want to marry my brother, that I swear I love a lot in the name of Saint Pancratious, but is clearly a wretched criminal…”

“Cut the bullshit, Carys; I’m thinking you could be useful for my purposes. You want to get rid of your brother, aren’t you?”

“My queen, how could you even suggest such a thing?!”

“Didn’t I ask you to cut the bullshit?”

Carys hesitated for some moments until nodding, “Yes, I want to get rid of Melwas.”

“Perfect. I want you to place some weapon near the altar in which I will be put before the “happiest” day of my life. Understood? Now go and you’ll be recognized as the sole heir of Bademagus, even if it is out of necessity. Fus, fus!”

And Carys run. She was even shorter and thinner than Morgan, she would have no problems in getting there soon and hiding if necessary. Ah, how much did Kay love clear examples of fraternal love like these! From under the skirt he took a bottle of whiskey he had stolen from the table. He read in the label that “Sir Gareth prince of Orkney, heir of Lothia, master of Shetland, conqueror of Norway, lord of the Dangerous Castle… sends his best regards to the happiest groom and bride in Britain Sir Perceval and Lady Elain” and then he had drawn a happy face. How Melwas could have stolen the bottle, and if Kay felt some remorse when drinking the present for somebody else, nobody knew, but when he heard the knocking on the window, he was a bit happy, to say something. 

And there he found his new servant Morgan the miller and Dame Lisanor. He was already expecting the visit of Lisanor, considering what he knew of her love life, but had thought Morgan would take advantage and run away to make some prank on Arthur. He had clearly forgotten he was now her greatest joke, because he even smiled and helped them get in. How? Easy, by destroying the window and grabbing their clothes. Lisanor looked around the room, as she was clearly not looking for Kay, but when she didn’t find Carys she turned against them, sword high even:

“Where is she?”

“Getting her kingdom! The real question is what is she?”

“My queen, they’re of Lesbos.”

“I see. Well, congrats Lisanor, you’ve clearly jumped the social scale!”

Lisanor turned red and sat on the bed that had been prepared for “Guinevere”. There Morgan saw she had hurt her hand while climbing and went to cover the bleeding wound. Kay then offered them the whiskey because, well, they were already witnesses of that spectacle, why not top it with a great headache the next morning? That was when they noticed the door moving. In a quick movement, Lisanor jumped to the bed prepared for Carys and covered herself with the blankets, although they could see the shine of her blade. Before Morgan could hide as well, Melwas entered the room and analyzed the situation. He jumped into a conclusion faster than Lisanor. 

“How could you?!” screamed Melwas on top of his lungs, “Now I see why you didn’t want sex with me: you were fucking the miller!”

Kay laughed at such a statement, probably out of drunkenness, nervousness and the absolute lack of proofs on his behalf, “What makes you say so, Melwi-Melwi, my beloved husband-to-be?” 

“There’s blood in the sheets!” and he grabbed the fabric from the bed, where yes, there were some drops of blood from when Lisanor had sat there. Any logic person could have realized the stupidity of the situation. 

“So what? Is that the first thing you can think of for real? It could have been, I don’t know, a nosebleed, a wound for wearing shoes, an unfortunate scratch or, I don’t know, menstrual blood? You know, that season in which women literally bleed from their…”

“Besides!” intervened Morgan, not wanting to hear the description of a drunk of the period, “Guinevere was already married, which means she’s not a virgin anymore!”

“And how do you know so? And why does she smell of alcohol? You have made her drunk to sleep with her!”

“Oh, please, as if I couldn’t get drunk on my own!” answered Kay, particularly offended at such an insult. 

“And, besides, I am sure Arthur can’t have taken her virginity, I don’t think his manhood is big enough for that!”

“Excalibur, more like Sexcalibur, if you know what I mean! Why do such claims, Melwi-Melwi, are you compensating for something?”

“My queen,” said Morgan between her teeth, “shut up.”

“You’re going to know what a real man is!” shouted Melwas once again from the top of his lungs. 

Chaos ensued: Melwas jumped on “Guinevere”, Lisanor jumped from the bed, Morgan was preparing a spell and Bademagus entered the room. “No, son, don’t rape this fair example of maidenhood!” However, any drop of alcohol had disappeared from the bride-to-be’s blood, because he grabbed Melwas neck and squeezed it as it were a wet cloth. “No, fair example of maidenhood, don’t kill my son!” And listening to the pleas of the old man, Kay threw Melwas as far as he could from him. 

Melwas crawled to his father’s position, and, facing again the bride, saw a horrifying red shine through the veil’s fabric, “Why… Why are her eyes shining red like a dragon’s?”

“MAYBE BECAUSE YOU HAVE TRIED TO RAPE ME?!” he had to be contained, or otherwise he would have continued his task.

“My lord Melwas,” spoke Morgan, no trace of her spell, “it is because she was having problems sleeping for entire days, nervous and excited she was for the ceremony. That’s why I am here and you smell of alcohol: I was getting her some to help her sleep.”

Again, a poor terrible excuse, but Melwas accepted it as if it were the holiest of words: “Is that true so? Well, then, let’s get married right now! Guards, guard Guinevere on her way!”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s end this for once!” agreed Kay, surprisingly leading the procession of people.

Why? Easy, he had seen Carys on the door doing an affirmative gesture. They were ending this for once at last.  
*

They weren’t surprised when they were led to a dark half-built hermitage with all sorts of tools. Bademagus was a clever man, and he had guessed correctly that the actual Guinevere wouldn’t have agreed to marriage for a good bunch of time, so the construction of the place had never been a priority. In fact, they had no priest of any faith, and probably no priest of any faith would have agreed to this kind of union. After a good time of deliberation they decided that Carys would do the deed correctly. She got into one side of the still undecorated altar, in front of the bride and the groom. She thought it was surprisingly hot in there, but started with the ceremony:

“Brothers and sisters that got reunited under this moon…” she said projecting her voice all that she could while making up the vows. 

Obviously Melwas said yes, and didn’t wait for the other to lift the veil. Everything went silent upon the “revelation” of the beard. Melwas actually was thinking that Guinevere was even sexier than expected, but Kay had a very different plan for the party:

“LET’S KILL THE GROOM!” and he ripped off the dress and veil while shouting so. 

“Finally, my ex-queen, an order I can get after!” Morgan joked, preparing her attack on some soldiers while Lisanor prepared her sword. 

Before he was able to leave the building, Melwas got hit by a hammer that had reposed near the altar right in the head. His body fell with a thump sound, which got followed by that of the surviving soldiers that kneeled in front of the attackers, asking for their mercy. Carys and Bademagus left their hiding place after those soldiers swore loyalty to them. 

The dress somehow made its way back to Camelot as well as Sir Kay, fixed and wrapped on some beautiful kind of fabric that could only be done in Avalon. It’s said that whenever the knights wanted to make their seneschal angry for some reason, they would hang it in the main hall.


End file.
